


Sentimental Value

by Oliver__Niko



Series: Fluff Bingo [3]
Category: Tales of Berseria
Genre: Apologies, Eizen's obsession with his treasures, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Zaveid trying to be a good person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:14:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23140774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oliver__Niko/pseuds/Oliver__Niko
Summary: Zaveid messes up. He leaves Eizen amused as he runs around wildly, trying to fix it. Literally.
Relationships: Eizen/Zaveid (Tales of Series)
Series: Fluff Bingo [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1658830
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25
Collections: Writing Squad Fluff Bingo





	Sentimental Value

**Author's Note:**

> Another fluff bingo fic! This is for the prompt 'cry it out,' which I've used completely differently than one might think. Still, I hope you enjoy it--thank you for requesting, Meg!

“Oh. Oh, _fuck.”_

This is it. Zaveid should’ve known everything has been going much too smoothly. Since tagging along with Aifread’s Crew, everything has felt far more relaxed than it should be. Their sailing has been fine. Nothing too harsh with the weather, aside from some slightly harsh rain. With Eizen’s curse, it has felt like this has only been building up to something _bigger._

Although really, can Zaveid blame this on Eizen’s curse? It’s technically the former’s fault. Those hands are outstretched over what Eizen has lost, trembling slightly, because of _Zaveid._

Does the Reaper’s Curse rub off on others? Is it part of Eizen’s awful luck that Zaveid would do something like this?

“It’s gone,” says Eizen, as he crouches on the floor, looking away from the broken shards of a large, ancient vase and up at Zaveid instead. “You destroyed it.”

“It—it wasn’t my fault!” Zaveid waves wildly towards a table, covered in a number of these vases. “Maybe you should’ve had one on the table at a time!”

“I’ve never broken one when I’m cleaning them. Nor has anyone else, considering they know to keep their distance.”

“I—okay, I’m sorry. But surely you already have enough?” Eizen gets to his feet, face darkening as his arms fold. Zaveid’s own hands raise in surrender. “All right, wow. That’s _not_ what you wanted to hear. Then, uh … Cry it out, man. Right on my shoulder if you need to.”

“The only thing stopping me from _breaking_ your shoulder is worrying that I’ll destroy more of my collection in the process!”

“Ouch. Okay. We can take this outside, if you want.”

“I wouldn’t let him have a fight, Zaveid.” Zaveid glances over his shoulder at Benwick, who has been watching this situation unfold. His slightly paled face, combined with the tongue running over his lips, suggest he is both terrified and amused. Perhaps it would only be fear if Benwick was the one beneath Eizen’s glare. “Just step away, and hope that he doesn’t get you to walk the plank.”

“I mean, I can swim, unlike Ei—” He stops as Eizen steps closer. “Uh, sure thing! I should give you some space. Yeah, I think that’s what I’ll do … Still really sorry, though, Eizen …”

Zaveid could apologise over and over, and he doubts that it will do anything to brighten that face. Surprisingly, this fury isn’t as intense as Zaveid would have pictured it. Perhaps this is the peak of Eizen’s rage. A silent coldness, unmoving and unyielding, as it takes every ounce of his temper to not murder you there and then.

Yes, Zaveid should go. He breathes out as he leaves the room. All his joking aside … He really does feel guilty. He knows how much Eizen’s treasures mean to him. It’s rather cute, actually, to see this passionate side to him. That someone so tough can have something that puts such a huge, sometimes even goofy smile on his face.

Now that guilt has _truly_ kicked in. And it’s not as though Zaveid can go and buy a replacement, considering it’s likely been discovered on Eizen’s travels, and going shopping is hardly doable anyway in the middle of the ocean.

He has to find some other way of making it up to him.

* * *

“Benwick, can you help me?”

“Sorry, Zaveid, but I think your life is already on the line.”

“I’m being _serious.”_ Zaveid has stopped Benwick in a corridor inside the ship, looking down at him with a hand on his shoulder. “Listen. What did Eizen do with the vase he broke?”

“ _You_ broke.”

“Okay, me, I broke it. What did he do with it?”

“Scooped up the pieces and put them in a box,” says Benwick. “I doubt he’d just throw it away … Why?”

“Nah, it’s nothing—where is he now?”

“Avoiding his deathly path?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Benwick smiles from amusement, shaking his head. “He’s in his cabin, writing a letter to his sister. He’ll probably be a while.”

“Aha! Thanks, Benny-boy—”

Zaveid pats Benwick’s shoulder. The wooden panels beneath his feet creaks as he jogs down, the call of, “What are you going to do?” following him.

Benwick simply receives a grin and wave over Zaveid’s shoulder in response. There’s a safe distance between where these particular possessions are stored, and where Eizen writes his letters … Hopefully, so long as Eizen doesn’t have a psychic connection to this room—which wouldn’t surprise Zaveid in the slightest—all will be okay.

And if it won’t be, well, as Zaveid said, he can swim.

He gingerly attempts to open the door and groans. It should hardly be a surprise that it’s locked. Grumbling to himself, he crouches down and begins to pick the lock. This will probably only be added to his list of unforgivable crimes. But even if he’s digging himself deeper into this hole, he’d rather not climb out of it until he has done _something_ to try and apologise.

He enters. A few minutes of searching brings him to a large box left to one side. He lifts it, placing it down on the now bare table from earlier—the other vases and pots have been placed away. The lid is slid off, contents poured onto the table …

And yikes. Sure, the vase _could_ have broken into far more pieces than it has, and Zaveid is lucky in that sense. But there is still more than he would have favoured. He lets out a sigh, hand running through silvery strands. Ah, well. A rush-job is better than nothing.

He knows that Eizen breaking his possessions is something that would only happen in that man’s nightmares, but surely there has been times he has had to fix up something he has found? Zaveid hums to himself as he begins his search. Sure enough, there are some tools left to one side.

Huh. Building things in general is easy enough, but fixing artefacts … Zaveid is nowhere near high enough on the ‘nerd’ scale to understand what to do. These tools seem far more complicated, away from the basic stuff anyone would know. He grabs some glue, one of the few things he understands. It will have to do.

And so begins the tedious process of attempting to put the pieces back together. Someone like Eizen would probably find this fun. He seems to be the jigsaw type. Zaveid, however, loses his temper within five minutes of working out where the pieces slot together. Even if not patient, however, he is determined. He _will_ have a somewhat vase-looking object by the end of this.

The glue dries quickly, and he can’t imagine that Eizen’s letter to Edna will take all night, so Zaveid hurries. It’s probably making the vase look even worse. The glue, at the very least, dries clear, but Zaveid is using so much of it that it still piles up in the edges anyway.

 _It’s the thought that counts,_ is his constant thought throughout the process. Once or twice, he shakes his head to himself with a smile, wondering how head-over-heels he has to be to go through something this painful.

* * *

With a small, content smile, Eizen leans back in his chair and glances over his letter. It’s another long one. He has always made sure to put all of his thoughts into his letters to Edna, wanting to make her feel as though she is with him. But since she started replying, he’s found he has even more to say—now he isn’t only talking about himself and his travels, but he is responding to hers as well.

He glances at the time. As usual, it took a while. Sometimes, he can write to her so quickly that his hand is a blur across the paper. But he still spends a long time sitting there, gathering his thoughts together and reading the list he makes to ensure he includes everything. This, however, is fine. He will have it sent to her the moment he is on land.

 _I think it’s time to stop teasing Zaveid,_ he thinks to himself as he gets to his feet. He still smirks over the image of Zaveid panicking. Hilarious for sure, but also … strangely sweet. All the jokes aside, it is clear that Zaveid genuinely does feel guilty, and Eizen can appreciate him for that much.

No one is sure of Zaveid’s location, up until Eizen asks Benwick. The answer is hardly surprising. Shaking his head to himself, Eizen heads towards the same room as earlier. If Zaveid _is_ inside, that means he—yes, the door is unlocked.

“What do you think you’re doing?” says Eizen as he enters. Zaveid practically springs to his feet.

“Sorry! I know I broke in here!”

“Second time that word has been used. What are you …?”

Eizen’s words drift off as his eyes land on the table behind Zaveid. Perched on there is the same vase that was broken earlier. Only now, it is messily put back together, with drops of glue leaking through the cracks. He opens his mouth, but Zaveid speaks first.

“I know it isn’t pretty—”

“It’s terrible.”

“—but come on. I had to do _something!”_ Zaveid clears his throat. “To uh, to mimic you: _look at how her curves remain so beautiful, so slender, even as she is_ so _terribly put back together—”_

“Can you even call those curves, with how the pieces are all stuck out differently?”

Zaveid folds his arms. “Well, never did say I was an artist, did I? Take it or leave it.”

Eizen is silent, trying to stop himself from smiling. He walks over, leaning down with a hand stroking his chin, as he says, “Hmm. Looks like I’ll need a hundred-thousand gald as well to make up for this.”

“You’ve _gotta_ be kidding me!”

Finally, Eizen cannot hold in a chuckle. “Fine, I’ll admit it, this was sweet of you.”

Zaveid blinks, his face blank as he processes this. A grin soon breaks out onto it, hands placed on his hips. “Awh. I didn’t know you had a sentimental side, Eizen.”

“Hardly. Just seeing you run around like a fool to do this is unlike you.”

“Well, I really did feel bad, you know. I know how much this all means to you, man.”

Eizen cannot quite stop his smile from softening. His hands cup Zaveid’s cheeks, bringing him in for a brief kiss before he says, “It’s a fake.”

“Huh?”

“The vase. I thought it was an official by an artist, but it’s not.”

“Th-Then—” Zaveid pushes Eizen’s hands from his face, appearing both offended and impressed. “You weren’t even mad! You were faking it the _entire time!”_

“Well, not completely. I was angry that you weren’t more careful around my stuff. But it turned out that the vase isn’t as valuable as I thought.”

“That’s—”

“Want to cry it out on my shoulder?”

Zaveid stares, unable to hold in a snigger moments later. He glances at the vase, as though it holds all the world’s secrets. “How do you know it’s a fake?”

“It shouldn’t have broke that easily. The most the real thing would have done is crack, and you’d still have to be unlucky for that.”

“Ah … Then see, I was being helpful. I got to reveal its true identity to you.”

“Not like that was your intention. And it’s ugly as Hell now, but,” Eizen pats his hand on top of the vase, “you know, I think there’s a certain charm to it. Maybe I’ll keep it.”

“Oh, Eizen,” a hand is placed on Zaveid’s chest, “your words are so kind, they caress my entire soul!”

“Quit it with the dramatics.”

Zaveid laughs. Weightless, genuine, free of the guilt that Eizen has been mean enough to let him dwell in. This time, it is Zaveid who leans in for a kiss. Slower, a littler more tender, with a grin on his face as he pulls back.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” says Zaveid.

“What?”

“You don’t have the real one after all. And while my _lovely_ presence is blessing your ship,” Zaveid ignores Eizen’s scoff, “I can help you find it. Whaddya say? Wanna go do some treasure hunting?”

“As long as you can keep up.” Eizen holds out a fist to Zaveid. The latter grins, bumping his own against Eizen’s.

“Easy as taking candy from a baby,” says Zaveid, and the two share the same competitive glint in their eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, if you'd like to request a fluff or angst fic, come check out the bingos posted on my Twitter, Oliver__Niko.


End file.
